


Of assholes and waffles

by beautifulwhensarcastic



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Morning Routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulwhensarcastic/pseuds/beautifulwhensarcastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendship has many layers and forms, Steve and Catherine's was never limited to society's standard frames. An AU intake on one of their mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of assholes and waffles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxholefantasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxholefantasy/gifts).



> As always, big thank you to Trish for putting up with my ideas and polishing them :)

"Ughh," Steve groans at the beeping of the alarm clock, knocking it off the bedside table and not really caring for the clatter of the annoying shit probably falling to pieces.

He tries to turn to his side, but something quite heavy is pinning him to the mattress, not so comfortably. This something mumbles in its sleep, snuggling closer to Steve when he tries to move. Citrus-scented hair tickle his nose, provoking a sudden sneeze, which wakes him up completely.

Brushing the messy hair aside, spluttering a bit as he realizes some of the strands are actually in his mouth, he nudges the warm body, but she doesn't stir.

"Get off me, Rollins," he pushes her not so gently, flipping her onto mattress beside him.

In response he gets an elbow jabbed into his ribs.

"Shit," Steve cusses when the pain shoots right through him. Cath may be a petite woman, but damn she hits like a bloody bouncer. She also seems to be half-dead like a drunken student during midterms, not even budging when he tries to untangle his legs from hers.

It's become quite a ritual - wasting long minutes to release himself from her grip after they fall asleep together. Which is often. Even more so now, since Steve's latest breakup, though he's sure that besides being a great friend, Catherine is simply addicted to his fridge and his big TV. Especially now during winter, when she makes him watch all those ice skating competitions.

He would snore through them every time, if only she wasn't cheering on it like a mad football fan. Bellowing, cursing, sometimes even throwing a tantrum over the jury's notes.

"Sleep," she mutters, burying her face in the pillow. Not even peering at him, she reaches her hand to pat him on the cheek, or at least where she thinks his cheek is, which ends up with her almost poking his eye out.

Steve gets up, adjusting his boxer briefs which have slightly slid down his buttocks. "It's almost seven," he glances at the alarm clock on the floor, that is surprisingly still in one piece.

"No, it's not," Catherine curls onto her side, tucking his pillow under her head, refusing to acknowledge the fact that they really should be getting up. When Steve grabs her ankles, pulling her to the edge of bed in one swift move, she lets out a loud shriek and hits him with a pillow, "You're an asshole, McGarrett!", she yells after him as he leaves the room.

When she finally emerges from the bedroom a few long minutes later, Steve has to snort at her appearance. Dark hair messy and tangled, his own blue shirt thrown on carelessly, not even buttoned, her eyelids practically still closed as she walks barefoot into the kitchen.

Not that he looks much better, he saw his own reflection in the bathroom mirror as he tried to flatten down hair spiking up in all directions.

They make quite a team in the morning. He's an early riser, while Cath would sleep till noon, if she could. Once woken, he jumps out of bed, in contrast to Cath who wiggles around and huffs. Sometimes he feels like a parent, who forces his teenage daughter to get out of bed and make her go to school, but she actually plays the similar role in most of the evenings, taking care of him and dragging his often drunken self to bed. So many times he he had fallen asleep fully dressed, but woke up neatly tucked in, only in his underwear.

Since recently, it happens almost every evening. His days are busy, he rarely has a chance to think about a broken heart or the awful guilt it had left, with which Catherine stubbornly but gently tries to fight - reminding him that his sexuality should never be the reason he feels bad about. But damn it's hard, when the person you loved abandoned you, because of it.

He opened up and revealed what had been eating him up for so long, what he didn't want to hide anymore. Stating openly that he's bisexual didn't change the fact that he loved Jenny, and not for even a tiny moment did he want to break up with her.

But apparently it was a "no go" for her, leaving him shattered and even more confused than before.

If it wasn't for Cath, he would probably have ended up in a really bad place.

Steve reciprocates his friend's palette of simple, small gestures of endearment with a few of his own, like making sure she eats a proper breakfast.

"Don't you even dare touch it," he growls as she rummages through the fridge and takes a box of leftover cheescake, "That's not breakfast. Sit your ass down, I'm gonna make some scrambled eggs." Gently gripping her hips, he pushes her out the way.

"I want waffles!" Cath plops down on the stool beside the kitchen counter, feet tapping rhythmically on the cold floor. Steve peers at her over his shoulder, brows raised, "Waffles? Seriously?"

"Yes, please," she grins, tilting her head to the side, "Come on, Steve, I know you can't say  _no_  to my smile. Gimme waffles."

He snorts at her, but soon his own lips curve into a boyish grin as he nods and takes the ingredients needed to stuff his friend's empty stomach.

He batters up the mixture, while Cath slices up some fruit. A piece of orange hits him on the forehead, when she throws it at him for making fun of her. The topic of Catherine's one-time lover, Lisa, has been entertaining him since last afternoon, when they had stumbled upon the poor girl, who a few months earlier finished her admin internship with a loud bang.

Or rather a loud scream as Cath gave her a mindblowing adieu orgasm in the station's locker room.

Steve had walked in on them, which caused Lisa to run away with a shriek. Though he still insists that Catherine's  _"You want to join us?"_  directed at him was the sole reason of the girl's retreat.

A loud banging to the door interrupts their breakfast. Cath freezes with a waffle between her teeth, spoon with raspberry jam in one hand and a glass of juice in the other. She looks comical, like a deer caught in headlights, or rather a squirrel stuffing her mouth and Steve chuckles at her displeased groan, when they hear the man yelling, "Rollins! I know you're in there!"

With a mouth full of waffle and fruits she mutters something, before reaching greedily for another portion, smearing jam over the waffle and quickly biting on it, completely ignoring the continuous knocking.

"Rollins, come on! We've got a case!" upon hearing that, Steve looks at her tellingly, but she just rolls her eyes and gulps down the juice.

Shaking his head, Steve puts down his own plate and walks to the door to let the intruder in. He doesn't even greet him, just opens the door and gets back to the kitchen. Freddie Hart, a tall, blond man, follows Steve, practically storming inside and cursing at the sight of his halfnaked partner stuffing herself like a Christmas turkey.

"Seriously Rollins?" Freddie groans, standing behind Catherine and making choking gestures.

He values her greatly and wouldn't exchange her for any other officer, but when put in the same area as McGarrett, they become insufferable.

"There's no Rollins, only waffles here," she grins cheekily at him and ostentatiously takes another big bite, smearing jam over the corners of her mouth and upper lip.

"McGarrett, would you please kick your girlfriend's ass and get her moving?" He steals a piece of peach from the bowl and pops it into his mouth, "We've got a case and Lieutenant Waffles here refuses to fulfill her duty."

Both Steve and Catherine exchange looks and roll their eyes in unison at the 'girlfriend' remark. They've stopped addressing those innuendos long time ago, not because it was tiring to explain they weren't a couple, but simply because it was just no one's business.

Granted, they had kissed a couple of times and saw each other naked more than once, but that wasn't anyone's business either.

They are friends. Best friends. Have been since they met at the Academy and followed each other into every rabbit hole, every downfall and twisted courses of their careers. Many of Steve's buddies turned their back on him, when he got promoted and made the head of a special task force, while they were still stuck at the precinct. Cath never showed even a hint of jealousy, nor did she try to get into his unit.

"Your partner, your problem Hart," Steve shrugs. He knows that Cath can be a handful, especially in the morning, but she's a big girl and hell of a good cop, and he would never interfere. Besides, pushing Freddie's buttons can be quite entertaining.

With a deep sigh Catherine stands up, still chewing on a waffle as she mumbles, "Don't get your panties in a twist." Gulping down the rest of the juice, she wipes her mouth with the sleeve of Steve's shirt, which makes him groan in disgust. They watch her disappear in the bedroom, a muffled curse following as she stumbles over something. Steve guesses it's that shitty alarm clock.

She emerges less than three minutes later, fully clothed, hair tied in a ponytail, gun buckled in a holster. Adjusting her badge on the waistband of her jeans, she steps toward Steve and takes a bite of his waffle before tiptoeing and kissing him on the cheek.

"Be careful," Cath smiles at him, fingers gently caressing his cheek for a brief moment.

"Promise. You too," Steve murmurs into her hair, kissing the top of her head.

"See you later!" she calls over her shoulder on the way to the door, "Remember, we're going out tonight! Gonna get your ass into some salsa moves!"

Steve snorts at that, "You just want to look at my six, Rollins." They've gone out together so many times over those ten years and yet she never managed to get him salsa dancing, either he was too sober, or they were both so drunk they prefered to crash at home and snore till late noon.

"Of course I do, it's a great view!"

Her laughter resounds melodically, the echo of it lingering for a brief second after the door closes behind her and Hart, making Steve smile.


End file.
